Or
Tarnished Silver
He was laying face down in the gravel, moaning. He was hot all over; his face felt like it was on fire. He could feel where he had been struck, there were swollen places all over his aching body. His right arm and left leg felt like a white-hot poker had been put up to the flesh, like they had been burned. His legs and arms were lying about him at odd angles, his palms resting on the ground. His hands could feel the dirt and gravel beneath them, cold and hard. He lay there, trying to be still so that HE wouldn't find him again. It was inevitable that HE would come, but he wanted to lay here and try to catch his breath first.
He looked up at the sky. His vision was blurry, but he could make out a lot of grey clouds – their silver linings black with rain. As he watched, they began to let loose their water upon the earth, and he could feel the raindrops upon his hot face. They felt cool and welcoming, bathing his entire body as he lay there, soothing his cuts and bruises and then pelting his back as he lay his head back down again in exhaustion. But this wasn't good, he realized. The rain was going to make it even harder to move. He wrinkled his brow with worry; he knew he couldn't get away like this.
Then he heard something. His weary body tensed up in fright; he couldn't help it. What he heard was slow, steady, purposeful footsteps coming nearer and nearer every second. They seemed to be circling him, teasing him with their location. At first they seemed to be on his right side, then no, on his left. Then they were coming from behind him; he could hear the heavy footfall, make out that familiar pace. He knew who it was coming after him. He knew who was coming to inflict more pain and suffering, to lay out more blows, to hurt him until he bled; lying there, helpless, his breathing became shorter and faster.
He knew who it was; it was Al.
He gasped; he couldn't help it. HE was close, he could tell. That had been a mistake; he could hear the footsteps growing faster and closer, their deadly purpose clear as they rang on the ground. HE had heard him, HE knew where he was. And since HE now knew where HIS prey was, HE was running towards him; no, now HE was there, he could feel HIS presence.
Then he could see HIS face; HE was bending over him, HIS face intent with hatred and cruelty. HE was not going to make this swift or painless. No, this was going to be pure Hell.
"What are you going to do to me?" he asked his voice shaky with horror. The rain had already stopped; it had only been a warm spring shower after all. He clenched his fists, grabbing at the rocks and mud beneath his hands; if only he could get away.
HE didn't answer, but bended in closer, menacingly.
Winry and Penako had just finished checking up on Ed.
"He's running a high fever," said Penako, blowing smoke lazily from her pipe. "But we did know that he would. It's not too bad – I've seen worse. We'll just give him a sponging before we leave."
Al sat still in his chair, watching as she and Winry took rags and soaked them in cold water, wringing them out. Then he watched as they gently wiped Ed's whole body down, Penako even managing to wipe Ed's back some. When they were about done, Winry wiped down Ed's face with some water, dabbing at his forehead. She was confused when his brow didn't relax but instead looked worried.
"We'll be back in a little while, Al," she said, turning around to look him in the face. She put on her best reassuring smile as she took out the rags and followed Granny. "I'm going to make stew for lunch!"
"Only after you take care of those rags, missy," Penako said as she puffed at her pipe.
"Of course Granny," Winry said as she closed the door behind them.
Al looked around the room. Now that they were gone, he noticed how disorderly the place was – the chairs were everywhere, strewn about the room all topsy-turvy. He needed to take care of this mess and clean up some.
Al stood up slowly and began moving the chairs to one corner of the room where they would be out of everyone's way. First he cleared the right side of the room completely, and then he cleaned the left side of the room. While he was doing this, he noticed that Brother's breathing seemed to be getting faster and deeper; that couldn't be good. When he was done and satisfied with his work, he picked up his chair and returned to his brother's bed side.
Then Ed gasped. Al's soul's eyes widened and he hurried to the bedside, lugging his chair like it was weightless. He leaned over Brother, trying to see what could be wrong. Then Ed's body stiffened up, his face distorted in pain as he grabbed at his blankets, fists clenched.
"What are you going to do to me?" Ed's voice asked shakily. Al gasped.
He wasn't sure what HE was going to do to him; but whatever it was, he knew that it was going to leave him half dead and bloody. His breathing was coming in shorter gasps; his lungs were starting to feel the effects of the blows and were aching.
He opened his tired, swollen eyelids to look at HIM again. HIS eyes were murderous, HIS huge body thinking of only how hurtful and damaging it could be. How could HE best hurt this person lying before HIM, sprawled out upon the mud with no way to move? Nowhere to go?
As if in answer to his spoken question, he saw HIM lift up HIS huge iron fist, ready to strike. It was poised in the air, ready to inflict more pain and torture.
"Brother…" HE growled; hate vibrating from every fiber of HIS being. HIS voice was metallic and echoing, the word ricocheting and reverberating over and over again, quieter and quieter every time. "Brother… brother… brother…" HIS eyes were narrowed, red slits of malice.
"NO Please!" he shouted. "Don't hit me Al! Don't hit me, please!" His shoulders began to shake as he cried, tears running down his bloody face. "Don't hit me…" he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper.
The fist was still in the air – and then it was coming down upon him, too fast to make out clearly. He shut his eyes, clenching them closed so that he couldn't see. It was bad enough to feel the pain of the blows; but more than anything, he didn't want to see his brother inflicting them.
Al was worried – what was Brother talking about? Why would Brother ask what he was going to do to him? He had looked scared…
Ed's breathing was growing more ragged. It sounded as though he was having trouble breathing, like it hurt to inhale. Al leaned over Brother, filled with concern.
Suddenly, Ed's eyes snapped wide open. They were feverish and wild; taking in and seeing nothing as they looked around the room in confusion. Al was surprised, but he sat still in suspense. Was this good? Was Brother going to come out of the fever? That would be great news for Granny and Winry!
Ed looked as though he were in a daze, his golden eyes glazed over as they roved around the room. Then they came to rest upon Al. They began to focus, the first hint of recognition coming over Ed's face; recognition that led to terror. Fear and dread flooded his features. He recoiled from his little brother, as if he was trying to get away from him. Al's eyes were shocked and sad. Why would Brother look afraid of him?
He raised his hand slowly to put it on Ed's shoulder. He wanted Brother to know that he was there – that he would always be there.
"Brother…" Al said softly and soothingly, trying to calm him down. His voice was both anxious and confused.
"NO Please!" Ed shouted. "Don't hit me Al! Don't hit me, please!" His shoulders began to shake as he cried, tears running down his hot fevered face. "Don't hit me…" he pleaded.
Al was rooted to the spot. He couldn't move; he couldn't think.
"Brother?!" he asked, completely confused. He tried putting his hand down gently on Ed's shoulder again, but this time Ed flinched and shut his eyes, terror written all over his features. Ed set his jaw tight and held his body rigid, curling up some as though he were in great pain.
Ed held his eyes shut tightly, clenching his fists so that he wouldn't scream out from the pain. HE was hitting him over and over again – Ed's chest was throbbing from the pain of the blows. The punches stopped coming for a few seconds and Ed somehow managed to curl up, trying to ease the pain in his chest. He breathed heavily, his lungs aching. Again, the blows came down, hard and fast – one fist smashed into his gut, knocking the breath from his lungs. Then the other fist rained down upon him, once, twice, thrice, causing him to be flung about like a rag doll.
He felt like a flag blowing in the wind; having no say in what was happening as it was flung about. Ed opened his eyes a little bit as he heard something – it sounded like ghostly voices whirling around him in a bone-chilling breeze. It was at that moment that he saw Al bearing down upon him, black and petrifying, fists poised to cause more damage. He shut his eyes as he felt the fists beating his sides and stomach.
He knew he deserved this. He deserved every single blow that Al laid upon him and worse. He didn't even deserve death; he deserved something worse than death in his own eyes. He had ruined his little brother's life – had taken everything away from him, even after he had already lost his mother. What kind of an older brother was he? He was Al's only family and he had ruined his life. He had wasted his brother's life – and for what?
The worst part of all was that he was the one who still had his body – he was the one who should've been taken! Why had Al been taken? Why couldn't he have just died so that Al would be ok? Why did Al have to be the one bonded to the armor – where he could feel nothing, nor eat, nor sleep – never truly live. Why had he been allowed to live – to breathe another draught of air again? What ever happened to Fairness in the world? It never seemed to be in their favor.
And now Al despised him; wanted to hurt him and inflict the pain Ed caused him back onto Ed. He had every right to; but it still was pure torture for Ed to know that the only person he had left in the world hated him.
A tear came down, unbidden, from Ed's eye. "No Al, no… stop it," he begged. Then he gasped as he was flung onto his back, his head hitting the ground. Eyes wide open, he saw Al glowering above him. The world went black as he felt something heavy upon his chest, restricting his breathing even more. He knew now that Al was leaning over him, his foot upon his chest, keeping Ed's breathing to a shallow, weak minimum. The foot pressed down upon him, causing dots to flash before his eyes.
The world was a black pit. Ed was losing consciousness; he could only see black and could barely feel anything anymore. The one thing that he could still feel was Al's foot upon him, pushing down a little more every second or so, squeezing the life out of him. He knew he deserved this… he knew he deserved this…
The black began to swirl and dance before his eyes – it became darker every second. Then Al pressed down his foot bone-crushingly hard onto Ed's chest, and there were bright white lights dancing like fairies in the black. They whirled like demons, taunting him by turning into different shapes, coming closer into view but then darting back beyond the reach of his sight. Sometimes they sparkled like snow caught by the sunlight, only to turn bland and grey like ashes as they got his hopes up.
Ed could hear a rattling in his chest; he knew that he wasn't breathing enough. His gasping was so labored… so… hard…
Everything to Edward faded in a swirl of colors and sounds.
Ed was coughing, his whole body shaking as they ripped at his spine. He moaned as his breathing worsened. Then he began to cough harshly – once, twice, thrice, causing him to be flung about like a rag doll. His body looked like it was being torn apart from the inside as he coughed – his back arching violently as his sides shook from the impact of one cough that left him gasping for air.
But he didn't have much time to try to get more air, as his body collapsed into a fit of coughing that looked like convulsions.
"No Al, no… stop it," he begged. His eyes flew open. Al became alarmed when he saw that they were wide with terror as Ed stared at Al's face. Then they shut again, like drapes close out all light. Ed gasped for air, his chest going up and down rapidly like someone who is drowning and needs to fill their lungs with air.
"He thinks I'm hurting him…" Al realized, devastated.
Al was scared – no, he was frightened out of his wits. Brother was lying on his bed, twisted up with pain and coughing, clutching at his stomach as he tried to breathe.
"Winry! Granny! Come quick – something is wrong with Brother!" Al shouted in alarm as he ran to the door.
"What is it Al?!" Winry yelled as she ran into the room, apron flying from behind her. Her serious blue eyes took in the situation immediately, as she saw Ed roll over and moan deliriously. Ed put his flesh fist to his mouth, coughs wracking his frame.
"Granny!" she shouted as loud as she could. "Ed needs a 10-65 right now! Do we have one in the storage room?!"
Penako's voice could faintly be heard as she ran towards the store room, chiding, "Of course we do!"
The next few minutes were a flurry of excitement as Winry and Penako ran around, Al trying to stay out of the way.
Winry shouted at Al to go get some rags and a bowl of hot water, and he ran as fast as he could. If he could have cried he would've, but he couldn't in the armor. Instead, his soul was aching with pain and sorrow as he ran back with the hot water he couldn't feel the temperature of into the bedroom.
Al sat alone on his bed, his head down, staring at nothing and thinking about everything. He had gone into what was his bedroom now, and the sun's fading light cast shapes onto the floor. Every now and then could be heard a little sob from him, even though there were no tears.
"Hey Al – he's going to be ok," Winry said as she put her arm over his shoulder. She had entered the room silently, slipping in without being noticed.
"Really!?" Al asked his voice surprised and sorrowful. His eyes looked up at her, sad and gentle, yet fearful.
"Yeah Al, he's going to be just fine. We had to give him a shot to relieve the coughing fits, but he's all right now. The only bad part is that he still has the fever, but Granny thinks that his temperature might go down soon."
Al sighed with relief, his shoulders sagging. "Can I go see him now?" he asked, his voice unsteady.
"Sure thing," Winry said gently as she watched Al leave the room.
Al entered the room to see Penako tucking the blankets around a fitful Ed. "Hey there Al," she said as she walked around the bed briskly, tucking in more blanket with every word.
"Hey Granny," Al said softly.
Penako was quiet as Al sat down next to Ed.
"He shouldn't have to go through this," she thought to herself as she began cleaning up tools.
Al sat beside the bed, hoping that Brother was going to be ok – they said that he would, but he wasn't sure. He was scared. Mom had been sick, and then they had lost her. He didn't want to lose Brother too. No, no; he couldn't live without Brother. He didn't want to think about life without him.
Ed sighed wearily as his breathing became more normal, and he fell into a deep sleep.
